


got your world in my hand

by LadyAllana



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fluff, Inspired by A Song of Ice and Fire, M/M, No Angst, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 00:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17909015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAllana/pseuds/LadyAllana
Summary: Prince Roger Targaryen takes a trip North along with his best friend Freddie Martell with a proposal... of sorts.-Game of Thrones/ASOIAF AU.





	got your world in my hand

**Author's Note:**

> I basically wanted Freddie to be like Oberyn, uncontrollable and unashamed. I’m not entirely comfortable with the cultural appropriation of it all so please tell me if you think it’s inappropriate :/ 
> 
> **
> 
> Oscars are tonight, or early in the morning for me, hopefully I will be able to stream it online and maybe you notice a little nod in here somewhere as well :D
> 
> *title from Princes of the Universe.

 

            The throne room is as majestic as ever and it actually looks brighter and warmer in here now that the large hearths have been put out. The King sits on the Iron Throne, the Queen standing silently beside him. It’s warm enough that she no longer needs to wear the fur coat she brought in her dowry.

 

            And he can finally stand here without shivering himself, which does wonders to his self-esteem.

 

            “Is he absolutely sure about this, Farrokh?”

 

            Freddie holds back a sigh and keeps his head bowed down low. Some strands of his long black hair fall from the high braid and get into his eyes, but he doesn’t take his hand off from the hilt of his sword to remove them, as it would be highly uncourteous even when it’s only the three of them and the Kingsguard in the room.

 

He knows that many in King’s Landing, including the king, as well as his own parents in Sunspear had expected a betrothal between him and the younger prince announced years ago, when Freddie’s uncle, the previous captain of the Kingsguard, had passed away and effectively cut any formal ties between the Targaryen dynasty and the Martells to the east.

 

            Indeed, it had been incredibly tricky. Martells had never technically surrendered and were allowed to keep their titles as princes – a fact that Freddie was particularly fond of growing up- even though they were considered one of the seven kingdoms under the rule of the king. After many ravens back and forth and some very tedious and tense visits, he had found himself in King’s Landing still, thankfully without a ring on his finger or the Targaryen dragons on his heavy winter cloak.

 

            Now, with the king in ill health and soon to abdicate, it had become paramount that his second son had found a suitable match soon.

 

            Alas, that was not to be Freddie.

 

            Thank the seven.

 

            “It is a good match your majesty, I’m afraid he will not be swayed.”

 

            He says this with a little smile on his lips, and the King knowing his son well enough to send for his best friend in his stead, returns the sentiment. Once the prince makes up his mind, he is well… an ass to deal with. The crown prince has married well already, there is not much need to backhand the younger one into an unhappy marriage. Besides Freddie is right, there are hardly any better choices in the Seven Kingdoms, unless you count the dull and tasteless Tully girls or the younger brother of the Crown princess, but it seems useless and unpractical to make double in-laws.

 

            “Then you have my permission to ride North.”

 

           

* * *

 

 

            “You can rest a bit now I reckon, now that the long summer has arrived.”

 

            Brian throws the heavy comb at him, laughing. His direwolf, Red, named for her blood red eyes, lays at his feet, heavily pregnant and snoozing. It has finally stopped snowing so heavily, which means many have thrown themselves into the courtyard in hopes of getting some fresh air. Children are running around everywhere, even the girls are doing their stitching outside.

 

            “Yes, well, the masters seem hopeful that it will last a couple of years at the least.”

 

            The winter has been hard on them, food scarce when it came to the last months of it, children from the villages stuck in Winterfell’s halls. There were many animals too, kittens and pups who shared their beds, even a goat or two who have since then became meals to keep their bellies fed and blood warm.

 

            John has spent a decade here and it has been long since the cold had settled in his bones and stopped his constant shivering, but still there have been days when he thought he wouldn’t make it through the night. They have lost Lord Harold and it had hit everybody hard even though they knew his weakened heart wouldn’t endure another winter.

 

            It was a relief to see Brian take up his duties with ease, but John could see just how sad and depressed he was when the doors closed upon them. He hadn’t touched his lyre or books for many months now, solely focusing on keeping the castle intact. It broke John’s heart to see dust grow on those objects Brian treasured the most.

 

            They grew up together after all, Brian the only son and heir to Winterfell and the North and John, the heir to a disgraced lord who wanted nothing to with him. But he was grateful, Lord Harold had threated him nothing less than a blood relative, raising him, feeding him same as his children and along the way they had become his siblings in everything but blood.

 

            With the winter so heavy upon them, they had taken to share the Lord's quarters as well, Brian adamant that the castle would hold as many guests as possible to hold out the storm. It caused many ill rumors that neither acknowledged, but those must also weigh heavily in his mind, no matter what Brian said. They have long since reached the age where marriage became a topic of conversation, and now it has become a must for Brian who has become the lord of his own holdfast.

 

            John kneels down to the floor, uncaring of the snow so that he can also pet the direwolf who grew up with them.

 

            “We have received a raven from the Capital, my lord-“, he says, the word foreign to his tongue, he has never called Brian as such until his fathers passing. “The prince, he seems to be coming to Winterfell.”

 

        

* * *

 

 

 

            King’s road is, well there no adjective to describe it as anything but boring.

 

            Freddie has spent equal time in Dorne and in the Capital, having sworn an oath of fidelity to the younger prince as it was considered his duty to his house. He will become the Warden of the East one day, it only makes sense that he forms close bonds with the ruling family and learn how to rule himself under their careful guidance.

 

            He has never been under any false assumptions that his family was considered anything but a threat, the only one in the seven who have not bowed down to the Targaryen invasion centuries ago, but with Prince Roger, he has found genuine friendship and comradery. He wasn’t forced to take the white -not that he would be any good at it- or marry some lord and lady he had no interest in, all because Roger championed him in the court, always keeping Freddie by his side and never letting anyone questioning Dorne’s alliance, not even his older brother.

 

            In fact, Freddie was even allowed to keep his paramour by his side in court, which was practically unheard of. A Sand by birth and thus not recognized as a proper human being in any of the other six kingdoms, Jim still wore his banners and rode by their side, something that Freddie should be eternally grateful to the crown for.

 

            Followed by a dozen guards, and a dozen Dornish knights on their black steeds, the Prince himself is on a white horse, his leather jerkin in discrete black and red Targaryen colors. The jerkin itself is a gift from Freddie’s mother for his last name day, as Dornish prefer their armors light and flexible. Freddie rides by his side, with Sir Jim Sand trailing a little bit behind.

 

            All of them are singing some random tune they heard in an inn two days before. Well, Freddie sings and they harmonize. He reckons he would have made good money in a house of sighing if he had not been born a prince himself.

 

            A couple of very boring and drawn out hours see him sharing a horse with Jim, citing a backache, from an injury jousting months ago that has long since healed, but the guards don’t need to know that. He lies half sprawled over his paramour’s broad chest, the hairs there ticking his nose, and even manages to doze off for a while.

           

            The Dornish among their company don’t look any surprised, maybe a bit jealous, and Roger’s own men know to keep their mouths shut.

 

            Freddie looks at a raven flying above them and pulls himself up, sitting up straight on the horse and dangerously close to Jim’s crotch. Jim gives him a disapproving look and pinches his side. In retaliation, Freddie starts to wiggle his ass but turns his attention to the prince.

 

            “So…”, Freddie drawls out, “do you have a plan?”

 

            Roger is eating a juicy green apple and manages to look absolutely scandalized and absolutely adorable at the same time as he whips around with eyes wide as saucers, that cute little shit.

 

            “Do I need one?”

 

            “Well, you need to woo him, don’t you?”

 

            Freddie gets even closer to Jim, who puts both arms around hips to bring Freddie even closer to him, pretending not to listen the two of them speak as a good knight ought to do.

 

            “Why? I’m a prince, he can’t hope for anything better than that!”

 

            Freddie looks at him fondly, as he would look at the palace fool or a newborn puppy that hasn’t quite gotten the hang of walking yet.

 

            “Still dear, he is the type who likes romancing… Surely you remember.”

 

           

* * *

 

 

 

            Brian and Roger have only spent some months together, in the Water Gardens before the winter had arrived. They were special days for Freddie as well, before he packed his own household up to move to the Capital permanently for the foreseeable future. It was bittersweet to leave his home for sure and move to a city so far removed from the freedom Dorne afforded. He is grateful to have had Roger there, with all his mischief and bright-eyed wonder so unlike the rest of the royal family and the court, to ease the conversion.

 

            But he still remembers those last days of decadence fondly, him finally being allowed to take lovers openly and Roger shedding away the strict upbringing of the septas and septons to dive right into the bright eastern culture under the Dornish sun, acquitting himself with a thousand new weapons and a thousand more musical instruments that his parents would find crude and lowly.  A couple of them they brought back to the palace with them, but Freddie hardly ever hears him play anymore.

 

When he closes his eyes, he can still feel the warm water on his skin and the warm laughter echoing all around. Brian, he remembers, was barely fourteen and lanky as it got and somehow taller than any of the guards presiding over the young lords and ladies; Roger was even younger. Roger had been squiring, well not really as he was a royal, but it was the protocol, and Brian had been visiting with his lord father on some business with Freddie’s mother, the ruling Princess of Dorne.

 

He can still remember the first time the young prince saw the heir to Winterfell. And he can’t really blame him for his hilarious reaction either, because even he was mesmerized by the sight of the unruly curls in a tight fish braid, the Northern boy’s gray shirt halfway open and soaked with sweat, skin reddish under the still strong Dornish sun. Freddie made a million plans about how to get him in his bed for the first ten seconds, after which he noticed the dumbstruck look on Roger’s face.

 

            Freddie, two years older and way more experienced being a Dornishmen had watched with unaltered joy as the hyperactive prince had been totally enamored with the solemn, brainy Stark boy who’d rather spent hours in the library with a maester than come and play with them in the pools. It didn’t even occur to him to add him to his conquests then, and he had focused solely on getting them together and possibly laid before they all went to their separate ways. If it didn’t happen in Dorne, it was unlikely to happen anywhere else after all, Westerners tended to be so complicated when it came to the matters of the heart…and of some other organs as well.

 

            Water Gardens had been home to many childhood crushes and first loves, but he suspected none had been quite so epic and idiotic at the same time. It took some time to get Brian to actually join them – and many complaints from Freddie’s own mother who thought Freddie didn’t pay enough attention to their guests-. But he and a few other kids from the minor houses eventually dragged him out in his night shift, much to his displeasure, not that he would ever sink so low to deny a direct request from Freddie with their parents so close, and managed to throw him into one of the smaller pools.

 

            He hastily got rid of the long shift lest his feet got tangled in it and he got drowned in the stupidest way possible, leaving him bare as the day he was born. It was only after the shift was long out of the way and his curls soaking wet, that he realized he wasn’t alone in the hot pool. There was a blond boy in the pool, now drenched all over because of Freddie’s previous shenanigans involving throwing another person on top of him.

 

            Realizing that it was impossible to cover himself and stay afloat at the same time, and red as an overly ripe tomato, Brian finally waved at him.

 

            “Hi…”

 

            “Hi?” Roger sputtered.

 

            Brian, finally gaining his wits, kept looking at his -equally naked- form, mortified.

 

            “I mean, I’m so sorry, my prince…”

 

            “Yes, no… I mean, Roger is enough.”

 

            “I’m sorry… Roger.”

 

            Freddie is sure they have talked and done much more in the coming days, but he had been too trying not to drown in his own laughter, cackling so hard that he couldn’t keep himself afloat. He remembers Adam’s arms around him, holding him up as they laughed and laughed, he doesn’t think Brian and Roger even noticed them so close, completely enamored and petrified.

 

            It was the most precious thing Freddie had ever seen.

 

* * *

 

 

            John has rarely seen Brian this nervous, pacing in the courtyard for everyone to see. The letter arrived three weeks ago, and a guard arrived earlier in the morning, having rode here early to bring news of his prince’s imminent arrival. Since then Brian hasn’t been able to sit or eat or do much of an anything.

 

            It’s pretty funny actually because he has been half occupied with the direwolf whole week and spent the rest on his lyre, composing hauntingly romantic songs that seemed lovely at the beginning but bored John to death after listening again and again… and again.

 

            John himself had never met the younger prince before. He didn’t particularly have any good memories about his older brother, who took him from his father after the siege on the Iron Islands, and then brought him here to Winterfell. He seemed like a just if not a harsh man, but he had been effectively his prisoner at the time. Brian, however tightlipped he had been about the whole ordeal, had this goofy smile on his face whenever he asked him about the prince, it was absolutely sickening. There were only a few reasons why the prince would visit Winterfell so soon after winter’s end, and from the look of Brian, only one of those possibilities remained.

 

            The horns ring just a couple of minutes later, signaling the arrival of the prince and his host. John thinks Brian might faint on the spot as the doors open, too slowly, they had been damaged during the winter and John would have to see to them as soon as possible with the men, but their lord stood up straight, half a head taller than the tallest in the yard.

 

            The prince comes in with his own guard, and a dozen men from Dorne as far as John can tell, and the heir to Sunspear -as it was written in the letter previously sent- rides a two steps behind the prince to his right, his own knight carrying his banners behind the three dragons on the Targaryen flag. Honestly, John is quite relived that they didn’t actually come in riding those dragons, and the rest can just wait a bit till the introductions are over.

 

            Brian steps forward as they dismount, head bowed down low and his almost frozen curls wild in the still very much cold and wet wind of the north. John is pretty sure the redness in his cheeks has nothing to do with the cold though. Noticing his gaze on them, the Dornish lord catches John’s eye and gives him a sultry wink. It seems that John isn’t alone in his amusement about their current predicament, it feels like they are watching two young boys meet for the first time, not the Warden of the North with a prince.

 

            It looks and feels childish and very intimate at the same time. John swears there is a childish excitement in Brian’s eyes that he hasn’t seen in years.

 

            The prince on the other hand, like the rest of their guests, looks half frozen and positively purple. John can see his chapped lips and pale face from where he is standing silently with the rest of the household, he can’t help but think he looks small and frail and not at all dragon-like.

 

            “My prince,” Brian says, voice much calmer than John would have expected given the slight tremor of his hands, “welcome to Winterfell.”

 

            He straightens and John thinks the whole yard sees the moment their eyes meet, the prince’s face suddenly transformed with a huge smile, looking truly angelic. There really is no way of describing him anything other than beautiful.

 

            No wonder Brian is so smitten.

 

            “My lord,” the prince answers, skipping two steps ahead as if he hasn’t ridden for hours in the snow, and getting in Brian’s face much to the dismay of the elderly in the crowd. He gets up on his toes, forcing their lord to look down with a similar smile of his own, one that they haven’t seen for many dark months now. “It is goo to be… home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are bread and butter and energy drinks because I'm sleepy already and want to watch the Oscars!


End file.
